Lonesome Blues
by Ari Moriarty
Summary: A pairing idea I received from EMD23. Dojima wakes up in a mysterious blue room, with a mysteriously beautiful woman. One-shot.


**Author's Note: **This piece was inspired by an intriguing conversation with **EMD23**, about crack pairings and stuff he'd never read before. This story is, of course, AU, or alternate universe meaning it's a "what if" and does not actually happen in the same world as that of my story, **Dreamgirl. **That said, don't rule it out as a possibility…I kind of enjoyed writing it. Actually, I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me know what you think of this pairing!

**Lonesome Blues**

"Wha…huh?" Ryotaro Dojima started suddenly out of a sound sleep, and opened his eyes to find that he wasn't in his bedroom anymore. "Where am I?" he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "The hell time is it?"

He took a deep breath, bit his lip, and tried to remember what had happened the night before. As far as he could recall, he'd fallen asleep in front of the TV sometime around midnight. Nanako had gone up to bed hours before and Yu and Chie were out for the evening with friends, so maybe they hadn't come in at all. He'd been sitting on the couch, reading the paper and finishing off his third beer when the screen had started crackling and emitting that weird white noise, and then…

"Chisato," he whispered, shaking his head. She'd been there, on the screen, staring out at him with that same gentle smile on her face that he'd gotten so accustomed to coming home to when she was alive. It hurt even now, thinking about that smile, and Dojima silently cursed himself for drinking too much and letting his mind wander, daydreaming and having alcoholic fantasies when he should have been in bed, behaving like the sane man and the good father that he'd never quite managed to be.

"Dojima-san," murmured a woman's voice, from somewhere next to his elbow. Blinking in surprise, he glanced up into the face of a young woman with ash-blond hair and a pair of startlingly golden eyes. There was something wrong about her, something alien, but in his bewildered and still slightly drunken state, Dojima couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

"Where am I?" he asked, clearing his throat and trying to sound more professional than he felt. "And how did I-?"

The woman placed one long-fingered hand upon his chest, pressing him slowly backward into what he suddenly realized was a chair. The gentle contact was electric, and made his heart begin to pound in an unexpected and unwelcome way. He stood up abruptly, pushing her hand away, and she stepped back, giving him space. Shaking his head as though trying to clear it, Dojima took stock of his surroundings.

Everything was…well, blue. The whole room was almost creepily blue, from the ceiling to the floor. All the furniture was blue, and it was a strangely calming color, immediately making Dojima feel more at ease than he had even in his own bed back home. That feeling, of course, set him instantly on his guard, and he took several steps away from the chair, reaching to his belt for the gun that he no longer carried there, and cursing under his breath when he discovered, as he always did, that it wasn't in its holster anymore.

"Please," murmured the woman, gently shaking her head, her curls bouncing pleasantly with the movement. "Don't be alarmed…I won't harm you. I am incapable of causing you any harm. For the moment, at least, you are a guest in this place. My name is Margaret."

"Uh, right," mumbled Dojima. "Crap…looks like I should have skipped the booze. Now I'm having crazy nightmares…"

Dojima was aware that Margaret, whoever she was, looked a little bit uncomfortable. Every few seconds she would glance around the room and over her shoulder, as though expecting someone.

"What's up?" he asked, sighing and figuring that as long as he was having a nightmare, he might as well play along. "What are you so panicky about?"

Margaret bit her lip and gave him an apologetic look. "My Master," she murmured, frowning. "I…I expect him to return at any moment. It was very wrong for me to bring you here. It is contrary to the duties of the attendant that I should use the Velvet Room in any way for my own selfish desires. I am…ashamed. I would be more ashamed if he should find us here."

Dojima raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, you 'brought me here?' And what's this 'Velvet Room?' Where the hell am I?"

"You are in a place," replied Margaret quietly, "between dreams and reality. This is…not exactly a dream, nor are you precisely awake, but rather you are experiencing the space that exists when you are neither asleep, nor awake. Does that make sense?"

"No," growled Dojima. "No, it doesn't make sense."

Margaret shook her head again. "Forgive me," she told him. "The logistics of this place are not important. What matters is that…" she paused for a moment, apparently uncertain. Dojima waited expectantly, getting bored of all the dramatics. He was ready for some answers, or at least to wake back up so that he could get ready for the rest of his day.

"What matters," continued Margaret eventually, "is that I owe you a sincere apology. I should never have summoned you here, on my own like this. It is only that I…I have become curious about you."

"Curious." Muttered Dojima. "Curious about me? Have we met before? Can't remember that happening, and I don't exactly meet that many people, these days."

"No, we have not…precisely met," said Margaret. "You have nevermet me, but…I feel as though I have come to know you. Through your friends, and through the other guests of the Velvet Room, I have seen something into your past, and into your heart. You…intrigue me, if I may be so bold. You fascinate me."

Even if this was a dream, Dojima allowed himself the smallest glimmer of satisfaction at having an attractive young woman tell him that he "fascinated" her. It had certainly been a long time since anything like that had happened, and he was reasonably certain that, at his age, it was unlikely to happen in the real world ever again.

"I have learned both through my observations and my…ah, my own experience," Margaret was telling him, "that in the human world, people strive to forge bonds with one another. I have discovered that this creation of connections between two people can be an extremely rewarding experience." For some reason, she flushed slightly, which looked very pretty on her. "Yet you make no efforts to forge these bonds, it seems. You avoid the connections with other people that bring most of those like you such apparent joy. Why is that, I wonder? Why are you so unlike the others of your kind?"

"Uh…" Dojima didn't have an answer to that question. Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck, "Not like I have tons of time for making friends," he mumbled. "I've got a job to hold down, and a teenager to look after."

Margaret nodded slowly. "Then…you see the creation of bonds with other people as a waste of time?"

Dojima sighed. "It's strange, the way you put it. Forging bonds…making connections…isn't that just another way of saying 'social crap?'"Wearily, he shook his head. "People don't stick around. Shouldn't get too used to relying on them, or give 'em too much of your energy. People die, they leave you, they grow up…in the end, none of those 'bonds got you anywhere."

"I see," murmured Margaret, watching his face, looking genuinely interested. That interest unsettled Dojima. He found himself quickly running out of this to say.

"Uh, jeez," he began, "now you've got me rambling on about this philosophic stuff…I'm no good at this. Why are you asking me, anyway? How old are you? What, you don't have anybody to go to for advice?"

Margaret pursed her lips. "I…fear that may be the case," she informed him apologetically. "And yet, that isn't the reason I have summoned you here." Again, she flushed, and suddenly dropped her eyes away from him, gazing at the floor by her feet. "What I wished to ask you, Dojima-san, is if you would consider the possibility of forging a bond with….me."

"With…you?" Dojima opened his mouth, ready to ask her just exactly what she meant by that, when suddenly, a noise came from outside the door that Dojima could see standing closed against the far wall. Instantly, Margaret shot a glance over her shoulder, and then jumped to her feet, looking panicked and frustrated.

"My Master has returned," she informed Dojima, shaking her head sadly. "Our time here is at an end." Even as she spoke, the world around Dojima began to swim and sway, dissolving into blurry, blue mist.

"Wait-!" he called out, trying to keep sight of her through the haze. "What's going on? Where are you-?"

"It has been a pleasure, Dojima-san!" called Margaret. "Please, I beg you to consider my request. I…do hope that we meet again."

Moments later, Dojima's eyes again shot open, and he found himself in his own, familiar bed. Breathing out a huge sigh of what was a combination of relief and frustration, he spent a moment lying back against the pillows and listening to the sounds of the world starting to wake up outside his window.

"Damn," he mumbled. "So it was a dream after all…and just when I thought I was too old to be having dreams like that."

Eventually, he got up and headed for the shower. The image of Margaret's face continued to hover at the back of his mind as he ran the cold water.


End file.
